Spirited Mystery
by Spacebabie
Summary: Some old wounds will never heal and those who try to seek the truth will never give up. For Peter Maza he may need the help from his daughters and a certain fae to solve a mystery for an old friend.


All the characters appearing in Gargoyles and Gargoyles: The Goliath Chronicles are copyright Buena Vista Television/The Walt Disney Company. No infringement of these copyrights is intended, and is not authorized by the copyright holder. All original characters are the property of Spacebabie

by: Spacebabie

**Spirited Mystery

* * *

**

Arizona, January 1960

Hands of a pale caramel hue formed a tighter grip the handle bars of the red '57 Harley as the young man increased the speed. Peter Maza wanted to reach Amanda's house as soon a possible, cursing the fact her parents had to move across town and his father made them live in that reservation. Peter felt it was a joke, a connection to an ancient past and his father was deeply rooted to it. He kept talking about ancient spirits like Coyote the Trickster as if they were real. Peter's father also expected him to stay in Arizona after graduation. Wouldn't he be upset when he found out his only son was applying to schools in New York, Chicago, Miami and Los Angeles?

Peter had been doing a lot of things that upset his father recently. His father never frowned at the late night basketball games or whenever he went to the malt shop or movies with his friends. As long as he kept the twentieth century stuff away from home had no problem. His father allowed basic electricity, plumbing, and phones, but refused everything else. A few years ago Peter brought home a small television he bought with his hard earned money from his summer job. His father was livid, but Peter refused to give it up. He kept it in his room and their home was the tenth in the reservation to have a television antennae put up. At the start of the school year he bought his motorcycle and told his father it was the twentieth century version of the horse.

The young man pushed the thoughts of his father out of his head. he can't think about it, not when he should be concentrating on the road to his friend's. Peter can't remember the last time Amanda sounded that depressed. Chad really meant something to her and he broke her heart. All because she didn't agree to ring in the start of the new decade by giving up her virginity.

The rattling sound of the motor brought his focus to the gas gage. The red bar was next to the E as it vibrated.

"I should have filled it up last night," he grumbled as he turned his bike into the direction of the neaest gas station. Hopefully all it needed was gas. The Harley seemed like a good buy at first, but it kept falling apart. If things don't improve he might give it away to some of his classmates from shop.

Peter pulled up to the curb near the Ramuirez's home as the ambulance was pulling into the driveway of the single story house. The sight of the multiple flashing lights of both ambulance and police car brought a new kind of worry to the young man.

"What's going on?" Peter asked as he stepped off his bike and tried to race towards the house. He would of made if it weren't for the large police officer standing in his way.

"Where do you think you are going boy?" A fat cop asked while reaching for his arm. "Are you family?" He narrowed his eyes as he inspected the youth. "You don't look like one of them. You look like an Indian."

"Lay off him," another cop stood in-between him and Peter. He probably would have still been whiter than bedsheets if the warm sun from Arizona's springs and summer's hadn't tanned his skin to a light golden brown. He had hair of bright spun gold and the bluest eyes he had seen of anyone except for his and Amanda's friend: Chloe

"I want you to talk with the paramedics." He leaned in close. "And I don't want to hear you talking like that again."

"Sure, fine, whatever." The fatter cop shrugged him off and entered the building.

"Peter Maza right?" the young cop asked. "I hate to tell you this but you have to stay back on the sidewalk, behind our cars." He pointed to the small crowd gathering on the cement paths. Some of Peter's friends, Including Chloe and Chad, were already there.

"How do you know me?" Peter narrowed his eyes suspiciously at him.

"I'm Chloe's brother." He pointed towards the blond girl standing behind Chad. Her fingers were curled around the bright red sleave of his letterman jacket.

"What happened? Where's Amanda."

The young cop shook his head sadly. "Part of me wishes I could tell you, but I can't even tell my own sister."

The teenager mumbled out a weak thank you before he approached his classmates. Maybe Amanda called Chole and she would have known something. He couldn't just stay in the dark.

"Did you just find out?" Chloe asked as soon as he took his place with them. Her golden hair was styled into a pair of pig tails. Her svelte form was dressed in an outfit Peter was used to seeing her dressed in, a pink sweater and a white cotton skirt. The black boots was the only part of her outfit that stood out.

Peter shook his head. "Your brother didn't tell me anything."

"He wouldn't tell me anything either," Chloe's voice would have sounded more angry if she wasn't on the verge of crying. She used her finger to rub the bottom of her nose. Peter wasn't exactly certain, but her nostrils did appear to be more red than usual.

"It's my fault," Chad was having just as a hard time as Chloe at keeping back the tears. "I was such a jerk. I should have tried to get her to go all the way. I shouldn't have broken up with her."

"Do you guys know anything that happened?" Peter tried to keep his voice down.

"A neighbor heard a gunshot from Amanda's place fifteen minutes ago," Chloe explained as the first tears rolled down her cheeks. "We don't know if she was attacked or if she done it-"

"No!" Peter snapped, silencing the young woman. "Amanda is not like that. She would never take her own life."

"She's too strong for that." Chad stared aback at the house as two paramedics exited while carrying out a body already sealed up in a body bag. "Oh God!" Chad wrenched his gaze away.

Peter stared blankly at the image of the two men carrying the white bad to their vehicle, knowing full well they were going to take Amanda, no Amanda's body to the morgue. "If only I filled the bike up last night." he closed his eyes and shook his head before he stared up at the headlights of a '52 Chevy approaching them. He knew the car belonged to Amanda's parents. Amanda had told him she had declined their offer to go to the movies with them when she called him. He couldn't look at them either. He turned back towards his friend and pulled Chloe close to him to allow her to cry into his chest.

* * *

January 2004

"Here we are," The young woman announced as she pulled her car into the driveway of a stylish beige ranch house with dark brown trim. Her slim frame, made more fit since she had finished her graduate studies, was dressed in a comfortable pair of thick blue jeans and a wool sweater. Her dark hair was cut short, drawing more attention to her bright brown eyes. "Me casa es su casa."

Diane Maza was the first one out of the car. The middle aged woman had removed her coat the second they had left the airport and carried it on her arm. She knew it would have been much warmer in Arizona, but she didn't know how warm it would be. She had wished she had removed the top half of her sweater set, she only undid the buttons.

"It's a nice house," Diane smiled at her daughter's home. She was thrilled when Beth had called to not only tell her she and Nick were moving out of their apartment and into their first house. "It looks like a good place to raise children."

Beth winced at her mother's mention of children. "We want to break it in first."

"Break it in?" Diane wasn't sure what her daughter meant. "What do you mean?"

"Get a feel for it," Beth explained while she opened the trunk. "Live in it. Decorate it to make it look like it our home, not something we would only be temporary living in."

"She has a point, Diane," Peter Maza helped his daughters remove the luggage from the back. He had dressed in his usual fall attire of shirt and a flannel jacket underneath his heavy winter coat when he and the others boarded the plane. "You can't rush these things. Children are not something to be manufactured. It's not like we don't already have grandchildren." He smiled at Elisa who returned his grin. 'Even if they are not human.' He wouldn't say it out loud. If his older daughter and son knew how he wanted a grandchild to show off to his retired police friends they may not want him and Diane to vist anymore.

"I know," Diane sighed. "I always feel you cannot have too many grandchildren."

Her husband brushed past her on his way to the house, only pausing to whisper in ear. "You are sounding like your mother."

"I am?" She cradled her head. "Not again."

"Mom, Dad and Elisa, welcome to our home," Natsilane stepped out of the house with a grin on his face, hoping his in-laws did notice he was still fumbling at calling his parental in-laws Mom and Dad. He was dressed in a green long sleeved shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, and denim pants. He kept his long hair tied into indivdual braids that perched on each shoudler.

"Hey Nick," the eldest child of Peter and Diane carried a couple piece of luggage towards him. As per his request, she and the rest of her family still call him by his nickname "Beth told me you were preparing dinner while we were in the car."

"I hope you like shepherd's pie." He took the larger of the bags from her.

"I love shepherd's pie." She brushed a few strands of her dark bluish black hair out of her eyes and tugged at the scarf wrapped loosely around her neck. Like her parents she shed her coat and gloves after they had left the apartment and was thankful she wore a light sweater udnerneath. "Can I ask you something?"

"Go ahead." He lead her into the house, already filling with the aroma of ground beef, cheese and potatoes and placed her bag into one of the bedrooms, empty save for a couch and a large computer desk.

"Sorry we haven't done much with this room," Nick apologized. "We only have two bedrooms and we are planning on using this one for our office. The couch pulls out into a bed. I hope you don't mind sleeping on the sofa in the living room."

Elisa shrugged. "I don't mind. Can I ask why you decided on living in Arizona and not New Florence?"

"Winter is brutal there."

"And Summers are no picnic here."

"The land is flourishing back in New Florence. Vegetables and fruit are growing and there is plenty of fish. Raven won't be able to reclaim the land." He stepped back through the doorway to the small hall. "I gave the role of leadership over to my second and moved in with Beth. The belief in Raven is stronger there now than the belief in Coyote here. Beth and I can protect this land."

"Don't have to worry about Coyote attacking here," Elisa assured him. "He has a bond with my family, especially my father."

"Beth had told me." He turned towards the living room. "May I ask why you didn't bring the children?"

"I don't think I can bring either Rebecca and Rowan on an airplane," Elisa followed him. "Even if I could disguise them and ask them to not move their wings, and in Rowan's case to not move his tail, there would still be the small problem of them falling asleep during the flight and turning to stone."

"Something smells delicious," Peter compliment as he and Beth passed by the two of them on the way to the second bedroom.

"Shepherd's pie," Nick told him as Diane followed her husband and youngest daughter.

"One of my favorites," Peter entered the room and placed the luggage he was carrying against the small pile in the middle.

"Sorry we don't have your bathroom all fancy," Beth chuckled as she stood back up. "We haven't gotten around to buying fancy guest towels and a little pink bowl with those soaps that look like roses."

"Thank goodness for that." Peter gave his stomach a light pat. "How long till we eat?"

"Honestly, Peter," Diane rolled her eyes. "You have a one track mind."

"Two flights with only a bag of pretzels per flight and a small layover where we didn't have time to grab anything, of course I'm only thinking about dinner."

"I think we may have to wait for at least fifteen more minutes," Beth said while trying to ignore her father's groaning. "The four of us can talk in the living room while Nick attends to the stove."

"I don't know if I'll be able to do much talking."

"Okay," Beth matched her own mother's eye roll. "After dinner can we go see Grandpa?"

"Sure," Peter's voice took on a somber tone. "I also want to visit someone else." He brushed past them on his way to the sofa leaving his daughters to give each other knowing looks. Peter had told them about a childhood friend who was killed fourty four years ago.

* * *

The eldest of the Maza clan stared absent mindedly at his father's headstone. His fingers slipped through his mane of bright silver hair. The words he wanted to say were lost from his throat. When he opened his mouth he could only manage a simple expletive, and almost wished he hadn't.

"Peter!" his wife scolded. Her cheeks flushed a light copper at the the word that fell form her husband's mouth. Deep brown eyes shifted from right to left, making sure the family was the only one around the burial site. "Don't you say those words in front of your father's grave. Show some respect."

"I'm trying to show some respect," Peter slipped his hands into his pockets. He never removed his eyes from the grave. The cool breezes raised the scent of the bouquet of sage grass and orchids. "But I forgot what I was going to say."

"I know this is going to sound sappy, but just say what is in your heart." Beth took her place next to her father's side. "Hi Grandpa. I know I barely know you, but this is the baby girl you held shortly before you died. My husband and I just recently moved into a new home. It's a house we own, not rent but own. We still have to pay for the mortgage, but it's ours."

"From my heart," Peter muttered as he kneeled down. "I know you are probably angry that I don't visit every year. I know you many not believe me, but I'm not a young man. I understand what it is like to be both a father and a grandfather. I'm going to find some way to bring Derek and his family here, and I want to bring Elisa's family here. I want them to meet you."

"Grandpa," Elisa took her place next to her father. "Like my father said I wish I could bring my family here. You have met Goliath and Angela. I want to bring my own children here, but I want to wait until they are old enough to respect you and understand." She also wanted to wait until the twins could stay awake long enough to take on a flight. She could always ship Goliath and Angela, but she did not want to place her own children into packing crates.

"I have something else I want to say," Peter spoke up. "Before we see Amanda I want to tell you I forgive you. I shouldn't have blamed you for her death because you refused to move us."

"Amanda?" Nick was the only one who didn't understand what Peter was talking about when they were heading back to the car. "May I ask what is going on?"

"It's a long story," Beth slipped into the driver's side of her car.

"Amanda is your father's friend?" Nick asked while never removing his gaze from his in-laws. "Is that who the second bouquets is for and the radio?" He remembered the silver portable radio with bright aqua plastic face plates. They only took one boquet out from the car when they drove to the burial ground and leftt he other and the radio in the back seat.

"Yes she was and yes they were."

The did not walk for long after they parked near the cemetary, only down a few paths until they came across the Ramuirez family plot. There were not many bodies and the grass had been mowed around the tomb stones with no weeds to be seen. Only a few cleaned out mayonnaise jars, filled with wild flowers rested on the mounds.

"Senior Ramuirez," Peter spoke the to the head stone marked Pablo Ramuirez . The man had only been dead for a couple of years. "I wish to speak with your daughter."

Nick twisted his brows up while searching Beth for any possible answers. He could not find any.

"Diane, the CD." Peter kneeled in front of Amanda's grave.

His wife said nothing as she selected the CD from the Flamingo's case and slipped it inside the disc player section of the CD/cassete player/ radio she had carried. She pressed the music section button searching for the right song before she pressed start.

Nick blinked when he recognized the tune. "I only have eyes for you?" Again he looked at his wife.

"It was her favorite song." Beth explained.

"Favorite song?" Nick stared at the headstone. Amanda Ramuirez: 1942-1960. "She's been dead for over forty years."

Peter either chose not to hear him or pretended not to. "I forgave my father, Amanda. I should have never blamed him in the first place. It was my fault for not being there that night. If I had filled my Harley the night before I would have been there. I could have prevented it. I don't know how but the person who shot you wouldn't have gotten away. I don't believe you took your life. There are many of us who believed you were murdered but the records still say it was a suicide. I will never give up hope your murderer will be found." He placed the flowers on top of her grave.

* * *

Nastiliane stared out at the image of the half moon from his and Beth's bedroom mirror. He couldn't sleep. Not after what he had seen earlier that evening. There were so many questions stirring around in his mind. He had to ask about Amanda and her death. "Beth?" He sat up, hoping his wife had not fallen asleep. She was lying on her side with her back facing him. The moonlight poured in through the window and cast her in a bluish white glow. "Beth are you still awake?"

"Yeah," Beth rolled over to his side. "Please tell me you are not in the mood. I don't want to with my parents in the house and Elisa in the living room. She might hear us."

"It's not that," Nastilane chuckled. "I just want to talk about earlier this evening."

"It's about Amanda isn't it?" She sat up. The sheet slipped down her chest, divulging her unbuttoned pajama top. "I should have filled you in. She was my father's best friend. Her family lived near the reservation and she and my father met at the nearby playground. They been friends since day one."

"Was she is girlfriend?"

Beth's eyes widened at the question. "Oh no. My father explained it would have been to weird to go out with her. It would be like dating your sister."

"They were that close?"

"Yeah. Her family moved halfway across town during the summer of 1959. It was the reason why my father bought a motorcycle a few months later. From what I understood Amanda was going out with the school jock. Pretty boy wanted to have sex with her on the night of the new year ,but she refused. He broke up with her the following night."

"Sounds like a real winner," Nick rolled his eyes.

"That's what I said when I first heard the story. Two weeks later she was really depressed and called my father so he could come to her place and talk. My father tried to make it over to her house as fast as he could but by the time he arrived he was too late. Amanda was shot in her chest. The gun was a few inches from her body and they discovered her finger prints on it."

"She killed herself?"

"That was what the official report said. My father and several others believe she was murdered. After a neighbor heard the gun go off they looked out the window and swore they saw something move near the bushes, but the cops dismissed it as the wind and a trick of the shadows."

"Yet people still beleive she was murdered because of the part involving the neighbor?"

"It isn't just that. People have sworn they had seen Amanda's ghost wandering in either the cemetary or in the place she died." Beth paused to yawn. "Some people, those who are convinced Amanda did not commit suicide, believe Amanda is trying to find someone who will listen to her story and help her bring her murderer to justice."

"And there are no one willing to listen to her?" Nick propped up the pillows on his side and gave them a squeeze to try to fluff them up.

"Some tried to reach out to her," Beth spread her legs until one foot came to the edge of the bed and the other came into contact with her husband's foot. "She wouldn't tell them. it almost sounds like she is looking for a certain person."

"I see," he chewed his bottom lip "Your father blames himself for her death?"

"He noticed his bike was low on gas. He hadn't refilled in a couple of days and knew he would have run out before he reached Amanda's. He kept saying how much of a piece it crap it was. Sold it before he left for New York."

"That is why he blames himself."

"The good thing about refilling was he had an alibi. The people at the gas station remembered speaking with him before he rode off."

"There is no way to find out the truth is there?" Nick said softly as he lowered his head to the pillow.

"Yeah," Beth sadly agreed. She stared at the moon for a few seconds before she lied back down.

* * *

Silence clung to the Cedarwood cemetery in a vicious cold grip, not even a single cricket chirped, nor any owls hooted that night. There was nothing but pure silence. Even the wind blowing through the night was silent, only becoming audible when it blew over the reservation burial ground.

The silence had even drifted over to the Hopi burial grounds as the wind built up near the Maza burial ground, swirling around and picking up dust. The dust devil grew till it was as tall as a tree and spun around the grave, sensing the presence of Peter Maza and his family, but that was not the only place that had the scent of a recent visit.

The small cyclone blew closer to the Cedarwood cemetery. Spinning along the border before it slowly entered, seeking the scent of the Maza's. It's soft whispering sound broke through the thick silence. It was sent down a single path, not stopping anywhere else. The other graves were not visited by Peter Maza or any of his children, they bore no interest to it. It only stopped when it was within a few inches from the grave with a fresh bundle of flowers placed on top of the mound.

The moonlight seemed to concentrate over the grave of Amanda Ramuirez, thickening into a cloud of pure silver, but the mysterious glowing nebula was not caused by the moonlight. The glowing mass's form thickened even further, becoming more defined as two whisper trails shifted into graceful arms with the slight hint of muscle. The energy in the center formed into a slightly curvy female body wearing a white dress with ruffled sleeves that seemed to fade from the waist down. The round face of the young woman ended in a short and narrow chin. Her long dark hair flowed all the way down to her waist and would have seemed more black in color if it wasn't transparent. Her large sad eyes were focused on the small whirlwind in front of her.

"Help me," her plea came out in a voice as soft as the gentle gusts of the dust devil.

* * *

Winter mornings in Arizona were crisp and cool, but rarely cold. They can become windy and even a surprising winter shower may occur, but they are seldom cold. The cool air greeted Beth Maza as she stepped out of her home, feeling all the hairs on her body stand on end and nip at her cheeks. She had many things planned for that morning. After breakfast she and her mother were going to go out to buy shower curtains, and towels from the nearest Bed, Bath, and Beyond and stop by either the Pottery Barn or Pier One to purchase a few other decorations. Nick will be setting up the computer in the office, install some shelves and do a little gardening white the help of Elisa and their father.

"What happened to the paper?" She asked when she saw her morning paper, out of the plastic wrapper and opened up in the middle. It looked like somebody was reading it. She bent down to pick it up, only pausing to stare at the add for the Gekko club when a gust of wind blew through, rustling the ends of the newsprint and teasing her hair."This couldn't have been caused by the wind." Newspapers that were out of the bag could have been scattered through the neighborhood on a windy night, but not when it was still in it's clear plastic covering. The people who deliver the paper also tend to knot to end, to insure the paper would not slip out.

"Did you get lost out there?" Peter Maza teased his youngest when she had returned to the house. He was nursing a cup of coffee.

"Where is mom and Elisa?" Beth asked as soon she placed the paper on the table.

"Your mother is taking a shower and your sister insists on helping your husband with breakfast." He stared into the direction of the kitchen. The crackling sound of eggs frying was easily heard.

"As long as I'm not cooking." Beth pushed the paper closer to her father. "It was opened up when I found it. I think someone was reading it."

A single silver eyebrow rose. "Are you certain?"

"It was open right smack down the center when I found it. They are delivered in bags and they are tied at the end with a knot."

"A knot? How do you get them opened?"

She held out her fingers in front of him. "That is why God gave us fingernails."

"Are you certain it wasn't the wind?"

"Unless it was a tornado, which I seriously doubt."

"It could have been a howling cyclone?" He picked up the top section and stared at the headline.

Beth thought about the question as she entered the kitchen and approached the sink. The mixed aroma of frying potatoes and onions along with eggs and steak teased her nostrils while she washed her hands.

"What were you talking about?" Elisa used the spatula to scoop out the mixture of grated potatoes and onions out of the skillet she was standing front of. The hash browns had turned a light crispy brown from frying in butter.

"Nothing much," Beth grabbed one of the coffee cups from the cupboards. "Dad thinks Coyote might be around.

"Coyote?" Nick asked in semi alarmed tone. He was watching over the other skillet, taking care of the steaks and eggs. "I thought all the fae were on Avalon."

"They can visit if they get permission from Oberon," Elisa explained.

"Does he want us to do something?" Nick tried not to allow himself to become too afraid. He was not worried about Coyote, but more about Raven. If one trickseter can request permission then so can all of them, and he had enough of Raven to last a life time.

"He might be," Beth paused to kiss her husband on the lips before she filled her cup from the still warm pot. "Can't be really direct. We just have to figure out what he wants us to do."

"You won't mind making the toast?" Elisa asked. She removed the last of the hash browns and placed it onto the large plate.

"Sure." she set her cup on the counter while she removed a bag of Wonder Bread from the bread box. "Are you two ready for today."

"All the tools in the tool box are neatly categorized," Nick explained . "I also have all the gardening tools set out."

"Are you ready to go on another shopping excursion with mom?" Elisa brought down a small celuean blue bowl from one of the overhead cabindnets and set it by Beth's cup.

"More than ready. I may redecorate both my bathroom and the guest bathroom." She opened the bowl and used a spoon to place a couple of scoops of sugar into her cup.

"Our bathroom?" Nick gave his wife a strange look as he turned the steaks over.

"Just a new shower curtain, tooth brush holder, soap dish, waste basket and tumbler, " Beth slid a couple slices in the toaster. "And maybe some towels" She noticed the strange look on her husband's face. "Don't worry honey. I'm picking out a basic sea life pattern for the guest bathroom, and perhaps a regal looking set for our bathroom. Nothing too fancy, and nothing too tacky. I promise."

"You say that now," Elisa began as she turned off the burner she was using. "but you know our mom can be when you are shopping for something specific."

"I have my shopping scars," Beth chuckled. She quickly placed two small spoonfuls into the cup and filled it with the warm dark liquid from the pot.

"What other plans do we have for your family?" Nick asked.

"Probably when we are done we are just going to want to have dinner." Elisa grabbed another plate for the toast. "Unless you have plans?"

Beth took a long sip from her cup, thankful for the sweet warm liquid as it poured down her throat. "I'll help Mom with dinner but I thought the three of us can go to Gekko's tonight, and mom and dad can check out the new drive in."

"New Drive in?" Elisa raised her eyebrows. "You mean someone just decided to open a new drive in?"

"Trying to rekindle America with a classic."

"Why do you want to go to a club tonight?" Elisa asked.

"I want to show you where Nick and I like to go to dance," Beth removed the toast from the machine and placed in two more slices. "Ladies drink free tonight. Do you want to come with us, or do you feel too old?"

"Old?" Elisa narrowed her eyes. She did not feel the slightest bit old. Her hair had only one or two gray hairs. People in their mid thirties were far from old and she was going to show her baby sister who had more energy at night.

* * *

The minimal lights that were inside the club turned purple, then shifted to violet before darkening to red and lightening to orange. They had slowly shifted through the spectrum while splashing the patrons with color.

Elisa mused over the color change while sucking her strawberry daiquiri through a straw. It did not contain much rum and with the whip-cream and half a strawberry on top she felt more like she was in a malt shop. She didn't care if she got a brain-freeze if she drank too fast. At least the dull pain would take her mind of that noise.

"What the hell is this?" She blurted while watching several young women shaking their bottoms a few inches from the bar. "Why the hell is this woman singing about her milkshake? What does that mean?"

"Your showing your age again," Beth took another sip from her fuzzy naval. She was not sure what she liked best about it, the sweet combination of peach schnapps and orange juice, or the silly name.

Elisa ignored her looked toward her brother in law to help her out.

"Milkshake is about her butt," Nick didn't look up from his empty beer bottle. He along with Elisa and Peter had decided to start from the easiest and quickest assignment to the longest. It only took minutes for the three of them to set up the computer, an hour to set up the shelves and nearly two hours in the garden.

"This song is really bad," Elisa removed the strawberry from the nearly melted cream and placing it in her mouth.

"I have to agree," Nick straightened his back as soon as he heard the song ending. before the last beats of the song faded away a different song began to play. Nick tapped his toe to to the familiar rhythm. " Now this is something you can dance to."

"I agree," Elisa held out her hand to him. "Would you care to offer a dance?"

"If it's cool with you?" Nick glanced at his wife while accepting Elisa's hand.

"Go on," Beth waved them away. "I'll sit this one out."

"Now you can judge which sister is the better dancer."

Beth watched as Elisa dragged Nick towards the dance floor while tapping her own feet to the music. She was about to remove her gaze from the crowd when she thought she saw someone she knew. Beth narrowed her eyes at the young woman in the white ruffled dressed as she moved through the crowd, not dancing and walking, but simply waltzing. She moved gracefully as waltzed around the other people, but she was actually passing through them like either she or they was not really there.

Beth quickly finished the last of her drink before she took off from her stool and raced after the girl. Unlike her she had to carefully weave through everyone. She did not remove her eyes from the white dress that seemed to be out of place and her long dark hair that reached down to her waistline. No matter how fast she walked Beth was always four feet behind the mysterious girl.

Beth finally caught up to her outside the woman's bathroom. "Hello? She wasnt sure what she was going to say to her. All she knew was she had to keep up with her.

The strange girl turned around and blinked her brown eyes. She had the saddest eyes Beth had ever seen. Her pouty lips were formed into an expression that was somewhere between blank and a frown.

"Are you lost?"

The girl did not speak but she shook her head.

"I don't know if you should be here. You look like you are too young."

The girl still did not respond verbally and pointed at her brown suade shoes. They appeared new and were clean except for a small dark stain on the right toe.

"Those are nice shoes," Beth complimented, trying not to notice the stain.

The girl's expression changed from sad to blank as she turned around and entered the bathroom.

"Hey wait!" Beth raced after her. The girl was trying to tell her something. She was almost certain it could have been her father's old friend. "Amanda?"

She burst through the door, not caring if she struck someone on the head or not, but there was no one else inside the bathroom. She was completely alone. Beth hated checking for people by looking at the bottom of the stalls for feet, but she wanted to find out where the girl was. All the stalls were empty.

"She was right here," Beth pointed at the floor. "Well not right here, but she had to be here. she was outside a second ago and she entered here." She chewed her lip as a slow song began to play. "Now I'm starting to act like Elisa and talk to myself."

She shrugged and turned to exit the restroom, only pausing when she recognized the song. "I only have eyes for you? Why are they playing that?" She wondered if it was only in her head or if everyone could hear it also.

The sudden temperature drop bore through Beth's mind, making her forget about the music. She began to rub her arms, her palms feeling the goosebumps that had recently developed. The club never had problems like these before, she thought as she approached the door, her breath exiting her mouth in a visible cloud.

* * *

Nick tapped his fingers against the bar table, hoping one of the bar tenders did not think he was trying to grab their attention. He was not ready for another beer yet. "I swear Beth was sitting right here when she left."

"Perhaps she didn't really want to sit it out." Elisa pulled out a couple of stools for them. They were made out of polished cherrywood and toped with red vinyle seats. Unlike most of the bartstools in New York they were not fixed to the bar. "Or maybe she ran into an old friend from school, or maybe she just went to the bathroom. I wouldn't worry. She will be back before we know it."

"You are right," Nick said when he encountered his wife from the crowd. "Here she is now."

"I told you shouldn't worry," Elisa pulled out a third stool.

Beth did not sit down when she approached the bar. She stared at her sister and Nick with saddened eyes before she blinked rapidly and held her head.

"Beth?" Elisa's brows rose, wondering if she should start to worry.

Her sister did not reply. Instead she grabbed onto the end of the bar, her arms steadied her self as if she was too weak to stand.

"Hon, are you all right?" Nick gently touched onto her shoulder.

"I'm done dancing for tonight," Beth said weakly when she was able to make her mouth move. "Nick could you do the driving. I want to lay back in the backseat."

"Sure," her husband helped her to her feet and allowed her to lean against him. Elisa took Beth's other arm and lead her out of the club.

Beth slouched in the back seat, allowing her whole body to take up the entire row of seats. She managed to thread her legs through the other seat belt as well her upper half.

"Are you not feeling well?" Nick asked, his voice full of concern as he brushed his fingertips through his wife's bangs. "You were fine before we went to dance. What happened?"

"How much did you drink?" Elisa 's voice was not accusatory but also had the same softness as Nick's.

"Two glasses," Beth answered. "I don't know what is exactly wrong. I just feel lethargic."

"Maybe Mom wore you out more than we thought," Elisa tried to joke, but her humor seemed to fall on deaf ears. "Where did you go?"

"I followed this girl into the bathroom. I entered right after she did, but she wasn't there."

"And then you felt weak?"

"Not until I heard that old Flamingos song and it got really cold."

"Cold?" Nick asked as he started the car. "How cold."

"And what song?" Elisa added.

"Freezing cold, and I heard the Flamingos song. The one dad played for Amanda."

* * *

Beth did not speak much during the drive home. She wanted to tell them she thought she saw Amanda's ghost, yet she felt she should wait. It wasn't because she wasn't wuite sure, it was because she felt too tired to think straight. Her lids kept drooping until they had completelly closed and she kept visualizing the same image over and over. She was the girl in the white dress and she had hear a knock at the door, but she wasn't in her house. She was in the house of the strange girl.

The other person behind the door was a person dressed in a black outfit. She couldn't see the other' person 's face due to it being blurred, but the mysterious girl seemed to know them well. The person in black was invited in.

As Beth watched through the eyes of the ghostly girl she could see that she and her friend were in the middle of a discussion. The movement of their hands and the volume of the garbled words seemed to have increased suddenly after only a few minutes. The other person lunged for her and missed. The girl pushed her back. The person in black slapped her with hands concealed in gloves and kicked her. The girl struck out with her fist and punched the other person in the face.

The other person grabbed onto her wrists and the two of them half struggled and half danced around the ghost girl's living room. Finally the stranger slipped from her grasp and lunged for her, pulling out a gun from their pocket.

Beth sat up with a jolt after the gun went off. While the voices were muddled she could clearly make out the sound of the gun. The sound of gunfire was still echoing in her mind after she woke up, fading to the vibrant rhythm of her heart and her deep gasps. That girl she saw really was a ghost and she had just seen her murder.

"Could that have been Amanda's murder?" The question me out of Beth's mouth even before t had registered in her mind. She had seen a few pictures of her father when he was a teen with his friends and Amanda was clearly seen in them. The ghost from the previous night had the same long hair and eyes with thick lashes. "I saw her murder. She want's me to help. Why didn't she appear to me before if I was the one?" Beth's fingers grasped onto the edge of her bed sheets and quickly pulled them off her. She had leaped out of bed before she even wondered how she came to be there.

* * *

Beth entered the dining room table, hoping to find her father sitting there with his morning coffee and reading the paper. She couldn't see his face All she saw was a an unfolded paper spread out to full width with a pair of hands holding the ends up. She was sure he was sitting behind the large newsprint shield sitting up behind the table.

"Morning sis," Elisa greeted before she took a sip from her cup of coffee. "How are you feeling."

"A lot better," Beth smiled while inhaling the aroma from the kitchen. She could detect maple brown sausage frying and pancake batter, home made pancake batter. "I think a good night's sleep was all that I needed.

"That's good honey," her father lowered the paper so he could look into her eyes. "Your coffee has already been poured and placed where you sit. I hope you don't mind, but as you can see I already got the newspaper today. Apparently the mysterious reader didn't stop by today. I found it in a knotted bag."

"That's great," Beth slipped into her seat. "Pancakes for breakfast?"

"Mom and Nick are cooking breakfast for us," Elisa answered, her voice shifted into a teasing tone in mid sentence. "You should be thankful you married a man who can cook, or you'd both be in trouble."

Beth laughed weakly. "At least I still have the ability to party till I drop, and I did drop last night."

"I would suggest you to not over do it while dancing," Her father folded a page over and began to read the continuation of a previous article. "but your sister and husband told me what happened last night. Sounds like you can see dead people."

_Ask about your father's dances_ The order was shouted in Beth's mind. The voice sounded like it belonged to a young girl, still in her teenage years.

'What?' She did not know where it had come from, just appaeared in her mind. She felt soft vinyl against her finger tips, looking down she saw she was holding onto the back of the chair she favored.

_Ask_ The strange voice appeared in her mind again, sounding more determined than before.

"How much of a party animal where you when you were young?" She couldn't believe she was following the strange voice's demand.

"How young are we talking?" Peter lowered the newspaper enough for his brown eyes to meet with the pupils of his younger daughter. " There is a huge range of at least two decades.Before I met your mother, before Elisa was born, before Derek was born, or before you were born?"

"Before you met mom. What kind of dances did you go to when you were in highschool and college?"

"I didn't go to many dances when I was in college. I danced at parties, and as for the dances I was in highschool." He paused while he stared up at the ceiling, trying to remember "I went to the big ones. I went to the proms and homecomings. I went to the Halloween dance, the winter dance, the valentines dances and the spring mixers."

_Ask him about the Spring Mixer during his junior year._ The strange voice repeated itself, sounding just as soft as before.

'Why should I listen to you?' Beth asked in her mind. Elisa had told her what had happened to a friend a couple years ago. He first thought he was befriended by a benevolent spirit when he first heard voices in his mind. It turned out to have been a demon, wanting his body. 'I don't want to be anyone's puppet.'

_I need your help. Your friend chose you._ The voice sounded hurt. Maybe it was because she accused it of being evil. _Please, I'm desperate._

Chose her?"You went to your spring Mixer during your Junior year?" She couldn't believe she was agreeing to be a more verbal voice to the words in her mind, and who was her friend who chose her? 'Wich friend are you talking about?'

I have been asked to not reveal their identity

"I believe I did. I didn't have date for that night, neither did Rhoda Redsnake. She lived a few doors down from my house." He lower the paper to the table and sat back. His eyes stared up at the ceiling again, but he was frowning or chewing his lip. "We called her the reservation rich girl because her house was the first to get a television. The first family to buy a new mustang. Her family did have the most money, but she was one of the sweetest girls in the world."

Ask him about how he helped me prepare.

'Helped you,' Beth thought. She blinked when she realized who was in her head. She knew it was Amanda when she saw the ghost the night beofre. She did not know the spirit had bonded to her. It was no demon, but she still did not know who chose her. "I hate to ask, but was Amanda with that jock for the Spring Mixer?"

The blissful expression melted form Peter's face "Yeah she was. We did have one dance together."

"She was probably excited about the Spring Mixer."

"Boy was she. She asked me to help her shop for a dress and wanted my opinion on everything."

Remind him of how I couldn't decided between the peach dress and the yellow dress.

"She asked you which dress you thought looked better on her," Beth stared into her cup of coffee, listening to Amanda as she gave her the detail. " She couldn't decide between the light peach colored dress without sleeves and that wide skirt they wore back then and the yellow dress with the sleeves ending at the elbows with a bit of ruffles."

"Beth?" Elisa raised her eyebrows at her sister, trying to fathom what was going on in her mind.

"Now that you mention it those were the exact dresses." the newspaper completely dropped form Peter's hands. "I told her she would have looked cuter in the yellow dress."

"And she wore it that night," Beth continued. "She asked you for your opinion on her hair and jewelry. She was about to sweep it up into a beehive and you told her to leave it flowing with a small chignon in the back and-"

"have a few wild flowers pinned in it." Peter finished her sentence. "She also was going to originally wear a bracelet made out of turquoise beads but I had a different bracelet in mind."

"A copper bracelet with bits of turquoise in it."

"Beth," Peter blinked. "How did you know."

"That ghost I saw last night was Amanda," Beth already felt the tears burning at the corners of her eyes. "And I think she is with me."

The small conversation was brought to a brief halt when breakfast was served. Both Diane and Nick dished out the breakfast sausage along with the pancakes and the slices of pears fried in a mixture, of butter, cinnamon, and sugar. The only words uttered were a few thank yous and compliments of how appetizing the food appeared and how excellent it tasted.

Beth Maza's attention was fought between her husband with his warm smiles and gentle shoulder rubbing, and her father's staring. She knew the conversation was going to pick up sooner or later, but her father show know hints of asking her and Elisa only gave her the occasional strange look. The silence was beginning to annoy her.

_Please bring it up._ Amanda's thin voice did not increase in volume, but Beth could feel the urgency.

"Is no one going to ask me about it?" She finally asked, bringing the eyes f everyone else on her. She ignored them all, except for her father's. "Daddy?"

"I was going to wait until we were alone," Peter said after swallowing.

"Ask you about what?" Diane asked while searching the faces of the others to see if they knew. Nick did not seem to know anything and both Elisa and Peter were staring at Beth. "Peter what is going on?"

"This is very difficult for me," Peter stared down at his near finished food. The bite of sausage and half pancake, staurated in syrup, did not offer him comfort.

"Just tell me."

"Beth thinks she's possessed by Amanda's ghost.

"Not possessed," Beth spoke up while staring into her mother's and Nick's eyes. "I think she is with me, bond with me. That ghost I followed into the ladies room of Gekko's was her ghost."

"Why did she want to bond with you?" Diane asked. She did not sound like she was in disbelief, but trying to understand.

"She wants my help. " Beth reached for her cup. Her throat suddenly felt dry, and she was going to need another sip of her coffee before she could continue. "She's been giving me the details of the past and showing me images of her murder."

"What kind of details?" Peter asked.

"Not at the breakfast table." Diane's glare was brief, yet it was felt by everyone at the table.

"The details are not gruesome," Beth said. "There is no blood or anything like that. I woke up when the gun went off."

Peter nodded at his youngest daughter before turning towards his wife. "Diane this is important."

"Fine, but do not mention any blood," Diane said after seeing the desperate look in her husband's eyes.

"Before we begin I have one question," Nick raised his fork, the syrup coated metal shone under the kitchen lights. "I know I am in the dark about a lot of things, but Beth explained something to me a couple of nights ago. She said the ghost of Amanda was usually found at the cemetery or where she died. Why would she be at the club?"

"The club was built over Amanda's house and the house next door to hers," Beth answered.

"That cleared up that question. I just had to know." Nick smiled sheepishly at everyone, hoping he hadn't asked or said anything that would upset anyone.

"Describe the scenes," Peter instructed. "And keep it clean for your mother."

"Amanda is in her house, and she is alone. Her parents and her brother were not home." The vision of the interior of the Ramuirez home reappeared in her mind, looking like an old black and white television show. She saw the details of the small television in one corner of the cramped living room with the single couch and table with a lamp. The card table with mismatching chairs next to the small kitchen.

"Her family went to see a movie," Peter remembered while spearing the last bite of sausage with his fork. "She didn't want to go with them."

"She received a phone call from Chad earlier. He said he wanted to come over that evening and talk, so she told her parents she didn't want to go. She told them she had a headache. She is walking around the house. She looks at the sink and washes the single water glass that is left. She looks at the clock and now she is grabbing onto the phone." The classic rotary phone was mounted on the wall next to the kitchen table. The girl in the vision had a difficult time trying to hold onto the handle. It may have been from all the tears that had soaked her palms.

"She called me. She said she didn't want to be alone."

"But this Chad was coming over," Diane spoke up. "She wouldn't have been alone."

"Chad is the ex boyfriend," Elisa reminded her mother. "She was feeling vulernable and wasn't sure what Chad had planned. He might have been planning on getting back with her and wanted dad over so he couldn't slime his way back into her life."

"Could he have been the murderer?" Nick suggested.

"Too tight of an alibi," Peter shook his head. "He had two of his friends with him when he was buying a gift for Amanda. He was planning on apologizing to her and asking if they could try again. That night was the first and last time I had ever seen Chad cry," He glanced over to Elisa. "And I know crocodile tears. Those were not crocodile tears."

"You can continue the story," Nick rubbed his finger tips on top of his wife's hand.

"She heard a knock at the door and she went to stare into the keyhole. She is opening the door and inviting the other person in." The vision matched the dream from last night. The girl smiled when she opened the door to allow her friend in dressed in black.

"Can you see what they look like?" Peter asked.

Beth shook her head. "The face is blurred and they are dressed entirely in black. Black shirt, black pants and black gloves, but I'm sure Amanda knows this person. She is smiling as she is talking with them."

"Why is Amanda blurring the other person's face?" Diane asked. "If she wants us to know who killed her she would show their face, or at least tell you their name."

"Name alone wont get her murderer arrested," Elisa answered. "I think she is trying to give Beth clues on how we can get evidence."

"Always was one of the smartest girls at school," Peter smiled before nodding at Beth. "Please continue."

"The conversation is no longer friendly," Beth continued where she had left off. The friendly discussion had shifted to arguing. Their arms were waving around like the were swatting at mosquitos. "Amanda does not look happy any more. She looks pissed. The other person just lunged for her and Amanda ducked. Amanda pushed them and the person in black slapped her and kicked her in the shin."

"They found a bruise on her shin," Peter closed his eyes as he tried to remember. "Her parents couldn't remember how she got it."

"I felt that slap in my dreams last night," Beth rubbed the side of her face. "In a way I could still feel the leather of the glove. Amanda is really angry," she returned to the story. "She lands a punch on the other person's face." The girl pulled back her arm back and shot her fist forward. Beth almost felt the impact of the stranger's face on her fist.

"Atta girl," Peter smiled.

"Now they are holding onto each other's wrists and struggling. The person in black slipped out of her hands and pounced on her. They pulled out a gun and pressed it against her chest." She stopped, the image had faded from her mind. "And that was it."

"The found the gun a few inches form her body. The only finger prints on it were Amanda's own."

"The killer was wearing gloves," Elisa pointed out. "Of course their finger prints wouldn't be found and if they placed the gun in Amanda's hand after she was shot then set it down by her body, they would have made it look like a suicide."

"Still don't really have any evidence," Peter sighed. "Does she have any other information for us?"

Beth shrugged. "All she had showed me when she bonded with me were those visions. In two different views."

"You can continue this discussion," Diane spoke up. She used her paper napkin to wipe her mouth clean before she piled her dishes together. "I'm going to clean up."

Nick quickly rose from his seat. "Let me help you." He grabbed onto Beth's dishes as well as his.

"Me too," Elisa was about to rise but her mother shook her head. "It's the least I can do since both you and Nick cooked breakfast."

"You need to stay here and help you father figure out the mystery." She and Nick divided Elisas dishes and swept them into them into the two piles they had gathered. After neatly stacking the plates, sticky from the syrup, they placed the glasses, cups and silverware on top and carried them to the kitchen.

"Amanda showed you two different views of her murder?" Peter waited until he heard the water running in the kitchen before he brought up the case. His hands were placed in front of him, flat on the table.

"The first was where I felt everything that happened to her," Beth closed her eyes. pieces from the nightmare she had were replayed into her mind. "The second was like watching an old move in black and white."

I tried to show you something before we bonded.

Elisa noticed the way Beth had opened her eyes and her pupils were dilated to the size of pinpoints. She had only seen her sister's eyes exactly like that exactly five times before that morning. "She's talking to you again. What is she saying?"

Beth nodded. 'She's asking me to remember what she showed me before we bonded. Before she entered the rest room she was pointing at her right shoe." The vision from Gekkos was clear in her mind. She watched the ghost girl pointing at the toe.

"The brown suede ones?" The corner's of Peter's mouth turned up. "They were brand new. A few of us got together and bought her new pair after she and Chad had their break up."

"She was wearing them, and they looked new, except for the tiny dark stain at the tip of her toe."

"I don't remember a stain."

"It could be a blood stain," Elisa suggested. A few of the clues had clicked together in her mind, causing her eyes to widen. "Jalapena. She was trying to show you an important clue." She slid up out her chair and motioned Beth to get out hers. "Beth show me how the murderer shot Amanda."

Beth had a vague idea what her sister was trying to express. "The murderer lunged at her. Amanda held onto their arm high above their heads and the murder had the gun right against her chest." She waited until Elisa had grabbed onto her wrist before she poked her in the chest with her index finger.

"That couldn't be her blood," Peter slowly rose from his chair.

"How strong was she?" Elisa asked.

"As strong as my daughters."

"I thought so," Elisa rubbed her chin as she stared down, lost in thought. "And she punched her attacker."

Beth nodded as the vision of Amanda striking the person in black returned to her mind. The murder's face was a little more clear. Beth could see the bottom of her face clearly, but the top half was still blurred. _Her_ face? Apparently the other's person's chest was also blurred in earlier visions.

"She punched her," Beth nodded. "She showed me more of the murder's face. Delicate jaw-line, pointed chin and bow tie shaped lips. Its a female, plus her chest is more clear."

"Still doesn't narrow the suspects down," Peter said bitterly.

"The are doing the wrestling dance," Beth said as the vision continued. This time the focus was on the attacker as she tried to pull her arms free. The bottom of her nose and the crook between her nose and mouth was dark with blood. She leaned forward as a droplet formed form the dark liquid and fell from her face. "The other girl had a nose bleed." The drop seemed to drop at slow motion until it struck the tip of Amanda's shoe. "And as they struggled a drop fell on top of her shoe."

"The evidence is on her shoe," Elisa snapped her fingers. They had something better than a fingerprint. She wanted to hug her fther, but first she had to embrace her sister. "We have the evidence of Amanda's murder on her shoe!"

"Weren't they buried with her?" Beth's chin was still firmly plastered to her sister's shoulder. "If they didn't wouldn't they have thrown the shoes away?"

Their father shook his head while grinning. "The last time I checked in on Carmen she still had the clothes her daughter died in. I believe she still may have them." There was only one way he could be certain. He hated having to reopen old wounds, especially on a person he hadn't seen in a while.

* * *

"Peter Maza, what a wonderful surprise." The elderly woman said as she swept Peter into an embrace. Carmen Ramuirez was shorter than Elisa. Her paper dry skin hung loosely over her limbs, gathering in thin folds. The skin under her chin was gathered into a loose waddle and deep gray bags hung under her eyes. The top of her head was covered in whisper thin gray hair." It has been a few years since I had seen you last." Her thin arms were not as frail as they seemed and were able to give him a good and firm squeeze.

The Mazas had drove to the small retirement community and Peter directed them to one of the condo style houses. The only detail that set the small house aside from the others were the two flower boxes hanging from the two front windows. It had the same beige paint job with red trim The pathway leading to the house from the cement walkway was made out of reddish brown and grayish blue, octagon shaped stones that were fitted together. There was no grass on either side of the path or around the condo, just gravel.

"I'm sorry it's been a while," Peter said once he was freed from her hug. He stepped back, giving the older woman enough room to greet his daughters. "I have brought my daughter's Elisa and Beth."

The old womanize brown eyes sparkled when she viewed the sisters. "I haven't seen the two of you since you were little girls. Come in, come in." She ushered the three of them in into her condo.

Beth Maza paused in her tracks and turned to give her a gentle hug. "I should have at least visited you more often." She inhaled the mixed fragrance of a flowery perfume and a blend of different spices.

"At least you paused to hug," Carmine smiled at her. "I may have to hunt down your sister for one."

Beth followed her into her home and paused at the closest set of framed photographs hanging on the wall. The highest photo was a black and white image of a young man dressed in graduation robes and motorboard. She stared at the other photos. The one beneath them were of the same young man in a different graduation photo, appearing younger, the third was of him when he was barely in his teens and the bottom was of him as a child. He was dressed in fine and important clothes and had his hair brushed neatly.

"My son," Carmine hand noticed her staring at them. "These are of his graduation pictures, taken when he graduated from elementary, junior high, highschool and college."

"How is he doing?"

"He's doing well. He teaches world literature at UCLA."

"He lives in California."

"With his wife and youngest daughter who is still in college. The other three have moved out. The oldest two are both married and I have a great-grandson and another great-grandchild on the way."

She lead Beth over to a row of shelves full of pictures of very young children. "My grandchildren when they were little." She picked up the smallest picture and held it out towards Beth. An image of a two year old boy was set in the frame. "This is my great-grandson."

"He's adorable," Beth comment while trying to look around for her father and sister.

They were both standing in front of a small table covered with a linen cloth of a cream hue and trimmed in lace. Threads of red, blue, green and orange were used to creat pictures of flowers in various places on the cloth. Several framed photographs were lined up in neat rows with a few candles of various width, height, and colors in the middle.

Carmine had followed her gaze over to them and frowned. "I keep pictures of Amanda along with pictures of her father."

Beth followed her to the table. The photos of the man were unfamiliar to her but she new the girl too well. She had been seeing the same visions of her over and over. Most of the images were of a young man and taken with black and white film. There were a few color pictures of him with noticable amounts of gray and lines under the eyes and around the mouth. All the pictures of the girl were taken in black and white. Some were pictures of an infant and a child and there were several of her as a teenager.

"The reason we are over here is because of Amanda," Peter said, tearing his gaze from the pictures to Carmine. "I think we may have proof Amanda was murdered."

Carmine breathed in deeply and picked up a picture of Amanda, taken when the girl was six. "I have learned to let go and accept the fact of her suicide years ago. Even if what you say is true, what will it gain? I'm too old to want vengeance."

"Are you too old for justice?" Peter asked.

The elderly woman set the picture of her daughter back. "I've learned to stop waiting and hoping years ago."

"Amanda hasn't stopped," Peter took her hands into his. "do you want her spirit to finally be at rest."

"It' been forty-four years," she glanced down before staring into his eyes. "What has changed that will prove otherwise?"

"Two words," Elisa held up her fingers. "DNA Evidence. They didn't have it back then."

"They had it ten years ago," Carmine reminded her. "I remembering watching the trial on television."

"I didn't think of certain details until recently," Peter pulled Beth close to him. "My daughters were talking about shoes. Mule pumps made of brown suade and I remembered the shoes I and a few other friends bought Amanda."

"She loved those shoes," the elderly woman s smiled. "She would always clean them when she took them off at night."

"Which made no sense for a stain to be on the toe."

"I always figured it to be her blood. I never had them cleaned, nor her dress. If I kept the stains I would have kept a little bit of her corporal self with me."

"Do you still have those shoes?" Elisa asked. "It's important. We think the stain on the shoes was from the killer's blood."

Carmen narrowed her eyes at her. "How can that be?"

"As I have said I kept focusing on the details, including her shoes. The exit wound came out of her back. There was no way it could have been on her shoe."

"Oh God," Carmine breathed as she held onto her chest. "All this time. We can finally prove she didn't take her own life." She straightened up. "I'll go get her shoes. I have them sealed in a plastic bag and stored in a box."

"We may need her dress also," Elisa brought up. "They will have to compare the stains." She studied the frail woman. Her father was afraid he would cause her to collapse from either a stroke, or a corinory or just by a simple fainting spell. He forgot how strong she was. Before they leave she was going to have to embrace her.

* * *

The Flagstaff police department was just as noisy and full of activity as Elisa's precinct but it was smaller and cleaner. The people behind the desk did not know what to make of her when she flashed the badge and asked for forsenics. All it took were a few words about a muder of a family friend for a guide to assigned to leader hdown the hall. She had brought in Amanda's clothes in a box and half wished her guide would have offered to help her carry it.

She shifted the box in her arm as she knocked on the door to the forensics' lab. "This is important. She had kept the slip of paper the person behind the desk gave her.

"Just a second," a man on the other side called before the door opened. A cop younger than Elisa answered the door. His gray eyes toggled back and forth between her and the officer. "Yes?"

"Detective Maza from New York needs your help here."

"Why does she have to come all the way here?" The forensics officer raised his eyebrows suspiciously at them.

"I'm visiting relatives on vacation," Elisa held up the sealed cardboard box.. "We have come across some evidence that can help solve a forty four year old mystery."

The younger cop did not say anything, but arched an eyebrow, reminding Elisa of her partner. He accepted the box and lead them inside. She didn't need to ask why he was in the lab and not at his office. He was probably in the middle of another assingment.

In a small way, Elisa was glad they didn't bring up DNA evidence ten years ago. It would have taken them a week to find out the information that only took them a few days in 2004. Becuase of the age of the staines it took them longer. It was the last day Elisa and her parents were staying in Arizona.

* * *

"They don't match," Officer Wilks pinned up the two DNA charts on the illuminated screen. The young forensics doctor was who called Elisa, along with detectives Hess and Turner into the small lab.

'Of course they don't' Elisa thought. "Does this prove Amanda Ramuirez didn't commit suicide."

"I would think so," Detective Hess answered. The slightly overweight detective was older than Elisa by a handful of years. Large aviator sunglasses covered the upper half of his face, leaving only the bottom half of a hawkish nose. A thick handlebar mustache covering most of his mouth and a double chin."Considering all the evidence I've read form this file. The hole in the dress matches the exit wound and the stain around the back would be the victim's blood."

"It's the blood on the shoe that is the mystery," Wilks said he studied the charts.

"My father was a friend of the victim," Elisa fought hard to not call her by her name. "He and a lot of people believed she never took her own life in the first place."

"I don't think any of us would remember what happened back then," Turner glanced up from the Amanda Ramurize file he held in his hand and stared at his partner. Copper hair was brushed back in the latest tyle with a few bangs hanging over his amber hued eyes. "Except maybe you, old man."

Hess gave him a shove. "I was too busy sucking from my mother's right breast to care."

"This could be the murder's blood," Wilks touched the bottom chart. "We could put it through the system. See what it comes up, but we will probably not find the murder."

"We can keep the file open until then," Turner suggested.

"Someone went through a lot of trouble to make this case look like a suicide," Elisa brought up. "They knew the victim."

"And the victim knew the killer," Hess agreed, looking briefly from the original report. "There was no sign of forced entry. The victim probably let them in without knowing he was carrying a gun."

"Or she," Elisa added.

"Or she," Hes grunted. "Still don't know how we are going to get their names and DNA."

Turner stared at Elisa. "Didn't you say your father knew the victim?"

"Close friends," Elisa nodded. "The file has his alibi as well as few others, but he could provide a yearbook."

"Some of them could be dead," Hess pointed out. "Or have moved away."

"Get blood samples from those who are still living here," Wilks carefully took down the charts.

"Your are bit uppity all of the sudden."

"I want to do all I can do," the foresenic's officer shrugged. "It's not everyday you get to participate in a fourtyfour year old mystery."

* * *

Beth stretched out on the living room couch. The bedding used for her sister was folded up and served as a pillow for her. When Elisa and her father returned from the precinct she felt a great weight lifted from her shoulder and a string of thankyous echoed through her mind. With the hope she may have seen the last of the visions she stretched out on her couch.

"Would you care for something to drink?" Nick asked, rubbing his finger tips across her forehead. "You mother and I can warm you up a nice cup of tea. We still have a few packs of the Celestial Seasons."

"Maybe the citrus flavor," Beth's eyes remained closed.

"I'll get out the teapot," he placed a small kiss on her forehead before leaving the living room.

"Are you still feeling tired, kid?" Peter stood behind the back of the couch.

"I'm feeling kind of relieved and glad it's nearly over," Beth replied.

"Detectives Turner and Hess are going through the list of names I gave them. They will be taking blood samples from those who still live here."

"Does Carmine know?"

"I promise I'll call her before we leave for the airport."

"Even if the murderer is still in the city they probably wouldn't arrest her," Elisa sat down next to her father. "Even if we won't know who did it until we return to New York."

"Chloe Robertson," Beth repeated the name that was spoken in her mind. "Her name was Chloe Robertson, but she doesn't liver here. Amanda told me she stopped sensing Chloe's presense twenty five years ago."

"Chloe?" Peter blinked at the mention of his old school friend's name. He remeberd the blood girl from his youth who was not afraid to get dirty when it came to painting signs to advertise for school bake sales and car washes, the same girl who baked apple cookies for him when he came over for study sessions, and who defended him and others in front of racists "Sweet and friendly Chloe? I still can't believe she is the one who did it. Her older brother was a cop."

"She would have knowledge and easier access to a gun," Elisa pointed out. "She would have also known how to cover her tracks. She knew not to leave any prints behind, but didn't think about the nose bleed, because they didn't have DNA testing back then."

"Of course," Peter shook his head again. The images of that fatal night became fresh in his mind again. He remembered the strange black boots Chloe wore and the way she kept rubbing her nose. "I still can't believe it was her. There was no reason for her to kill Amanda. She didn't have a motive."

Beth did not open her eyes. She was waiting for Amanda to tell her why Chloe shot her. Instead of hearing a name she saw the vision of Amanda's final moments again.

"She is opening the door again," Beth said s the image replayed itself once more. "Amanda is talking to Chloe, and I can hear it."

"Tell me everything they are saying to each other," Peter told her.

Amanda was staring at her friend strangely as if it were the first time she saw Chloe dressed completely in black.

"Amanda is asking her why she is dressed like that," Beth said. "And Chloe is telling her it is a new look."

"She never did wear that much black before, "Peter nodded, remembering her fashion sense. "She wasn't wearing it when we were gathering outside Amanda's house, except for the boots.

"She found some way to deposit them," Elisa suggested. "Threw them away or burned them."

"They are talking about Chad," Beth summarized the conversation she heard between the two teens. "Chloe knows Chad was coming over to try to win Amanda back, and Amanda told her she wasn't sure. Chloe is telling her to not take him back, no matter how hard he tries to say no. Amanda isn't sure if she will take him back or not. The break up happened too quick. She felt it was a surge brought on by hormones and Chad had time to think it over."

"Chad couldn't think about anything but her," Peter nodded.

"Chloe is persistent in Amanda and Chad not getting back together. Amanda asks her why, but she knew the answer at the same time. Chloe wants to date him. Chloe confessed Chad refuted all of her advances because he was only thinking about Amanda.Amanda points out Chad doesn't have feelings for her and Chloe said Amanda is the only person standing in their way. If she refused to take Chad back then Chloe would have a chance."

Beth trailed off when the two girls began to shout each other, civil words were exchanged for petty insults.

"Did they say anything else?" Peter asked.

"No they are just shouting at each other," Beth sat up. "They will shout at each other for another minute before they have their small fight. I'm sorry daddy."

"You don't have to be," Peter told her . "You, Elisa and Amanda were a big help. We know who is responsible and her file has been changed from suicide to murder." he placed his face in his hands, not sitting back up until Nick returned with Beth's tea.

* * *

Manhattan

Elisa leaned over against her windowsill, nose pressing against the glass as she stared out at the stars. She may have a hard time believing it, but she was sure they were brighter. "Now if we can get only solve every unsolved murder in the world," she sighed.

"As a detective you should know that is next to impossible," Goliath's smooth voice purred behind her, catching her by surprise.

"I didn't hear you come in," Elisa confessed. "How was your shower?"

"Warm and fresh," Goliath rubbed the towel against his sable mane before letting it lie across his shoulders. He did not have to bath as often as a human because every time he shed his stone skin he was also shedding a layer of dirt, but he loved the way the warm jets of water felt against his skin, and he liked the way the conditioner made his hair feel soft, more inviting for Elisa's fingers.

"Dad, Beth and Nick are probably visiting Amanda's grave." Part of her wanted to fly out with them, but she had already spent too much time away form her husband and children.

"And you chose to stay behind?"

She smiled. "I choose to be with you."

"I am glad you decided to stay," Goliath pulled her into a deep embrace. "Still have yet to understand some of your human laws."

"Statute of limitation," Elisa pressed her cheek against Goliath's shoulder. His skin felt so soft and smooth after he bathed. It disgused the rock hard muscle underneath. "A set of time when a person can be aressted. There is also the following facts of the murder was once believed to be a suicide, Chloe no longer living in Flagstaff and my father told me she was sixteen at the time."

"Someday I hope to understand these laws better," He ran his talons through her hair.

"You will always have me for a teacher. How was the conference?"

"Great," the large gargoyle's mind shifted to the most recent conference. While his wife was in Arizona he was in London, representing his clan along with Brooklyn and Marle. He had only wished his wife was with them. "The Network has proven to be a succsess. The only clans who still refuse to accept are the New Olympians and the Puhkan. The New Olympians admited to some problems of their own, wich is why they still couldn't consider the idea of the Network at this time. The Puhkan's did agree to an human exchange."

"Exchange?"

"A few human friends from the other clans would live with them for a couple of months. They are willing to chance it with the weregoyles first."

"Then the winged people," Elisa understood the process. "Babysteps."

"When learning to accept something new, and possibly frightening we have to take it one step at a time." He agreed, smiling at the fact they both were of the same mind at times.

* * *

Arizona

Peter Maza stared at Amanda's grave as his bouquet was lain next to the few others that took up residence on the mound. "May you achieve peace at last." It had taken a few days for Peter to arrange another flight back to his homestate.

"I am pretty sure she is at peace." Carmen said from where she stood next to him when he set the flowers down. She could not believe she had lost hope at one point. A burning feeling guilt tore at her heart. How could she have let her daughter down? Thank God Amanda's friends have never lost hope. "The city knows the truth."

"I hope in a way we can see her one last time," Beth said from a few feet behind. She and Nick had provided the other bouquet's and brought along the radio. "I just want to tell her goodbye."

"This is what we are doing," Peter told her. "Play the music."

The CD was already in the machine. All Beth had to do was turn it on.

The moonlight touching down onto the grave seemed to thicken into and condense into a transparent form of a young woman. Ethereal waves of translucent, charcoal gray hair crowned her head and flowed down to her waist. A ruffled white dress hung form her body Amanda hovered over her grave, smiling at the four who were visiting her. The dark pools of her eyes no longer appeared sad.

"Amanda," Carmine 's voice warbled as her body shook, not from fear, but from sorrow. "Mi Hija pequena."

"Mama," Amanda smiled at her. "Don't be afraid."

"I'm not afraid." She wiped her eyes with her gnarled hands.

"Don't be sad. You helped me by keeping my dress and shoes," She turned to Peter. "Thank you my friend for never giving up. Thank Beth for letting me Bond with you and thank you Nick for being a good husband and comforting to her. I wish I could thank Elisa as well."

"We'll tell her," Peter said.

"Mama don't cry," Amanda said. The sight of tears rolling down her aged mothrs lined face brought the glimmer of sorrow back to her own eyes. "I'm going to be with papa now. Give Roberto and his family my love." She seemed to pause, staring behind the mortals at something either they can't see or have yet to notice. "Thank you Coyote. If it were not for you I would have never reached Beth."

"Coyote?" Peter quickly turned around, hoping to catch a younger doppleganger of himself or a dust devil, but all he saw were a few breezes. He turned around to the grave, but Amanda was gone.

"She faded away," Carmen wiped her eyes. "She was smiling and she faded."

"She was smiling because she was happy," Beth smiled herself at the thought of seeing Amanda with a smile and her eyes wide and complacent instead of full of sorrow. Her father was right about Coyote pulling the newspaper out of the bag and wondered where the trickster had spun off to.

* * *

Avalon

The magical island usually possessed a calm and quiet atmosphere on the outside. The snowy white caps of the ocean crashed into the rocks who gently waves lapped against the sandy shores. Various birds flew over the isle, providing soothing and inviting music. The island may seem quiet on the outside and beaches, but deep within, near Oberon's castle, it was bursting with energetic festivity.

Weeks passed since the first breeding season had began and a few nights ago the last females became with egg. The members of the fae were careful not to intrude on their activities and amused themselves, mostly by asking Oberon for permission to visit the outside world. No longer having to dance around on eggshells the fae were free to play about. A few of the more festivus ones decided to throw a party to honor the breeding season. They decided on a tropical theme: the orchard produced bananas, pineapples, coconuts, limes, mango, papaya, and passion fruit. Music from South America and the Caribbean islands were played and the meat hunted down was served salted and cooked over several pits.

"Every body it's time to conga!" A short hobgoblin called. He had donned a salmon pink shirt and neon blue Bermuda shorts, looking brighter against his woolly white fur. "Maestro if you please." He pointed at the pixie standing on a mushroom as big as he was.

Like the hobgoblin the pixie had traded in her every day wear for something more fitting for a beach party. She was dressed in a lace trimmed tankini. She nodded as she turned towards her orchestra: a group of plants that appeared to be resting. She waved her wand in front of the plants and began pointing at the different groups.

The tree stumps illuminated first, each one producing the sound of a different drum as they glowed. The flowers were next, each blossom stood straighter as they produced sounds mimicking trumpets, trombones, saxophones and other horns. The vines attached to the gourds vibrated, each note sounded as if it was plucked from a guitar. A nearby walnut tree shook it's branches, producing a maraca like sound. The last addition to the garden were a group of reeds that bent over. They highlighted with the sound of a xylophone without a mallet.

The hobgoblin sang as he danced in place, careful not to spill a single drop of his margarita.

"You heard him," a female member of the fae called out. Her dark curls were tied back and secured with a seashell shaped clip. Her breasts were concealed with a bright red bikini top. A sarong was tied around her hips, low enough to display her well toned abs. A gold vanity necklace of the name Terphsichore hung form her neck and came to resting a few inches above her cleavage "Let's Conga!" She raised her long slender arms and shook her hips.

Her dancing immediately caught the attention of Mustardseed. The greenish-yellow member of the fae danced right up to Terphsichore and placed her hands on her hips. Within a few beats she was dancing within the same rhythm. The bronze gargoyle, Michael, quickly caught on and placed his hands on her hips. He was joined by the Sirens who have ditched their fish tail in favor of bathing suits that were each in a unique style.

* * *

Not everyone was dancing and enjoying the music, food, and drink. Some were resting their feet at the few benches and tables that were provided. Some of them were taking a break from dancing while others were feasting on large platters of food they nabbed from the buffet table. Several members of the fair folk were tending to the meat, removing spits from the flames and placed them on the buffet table to carve. A long living train of gargoyles and fae were side-winding around. The giant spider, Anansi was given the role of bartender. He was able to create several drinks at the same time with his multiple limbs.

Raven was neither eating or resting. He was observing the celebration while in his human guise. A tiny hiccup brought his attention to the six inch fae sitting next to him. The small faerie blinked her watery eyes as she tried to straighten her translucent wings. Her once gossamer appendages had lost their luster and were folded over, almost crumpled. The light green tint to her skin was not caused by her intoxicated state. It was natraul. She was dressed in a pine green bikini with matching sandals. Her hair that was falling in her face was a bright shade of emerald.

Raven watched as the faerie tried to fly off the bench and caught her before she fell face first into the dirt. "Where are you going?"

"Drink," her tiny voice chimed as she pointed towards Anansi.

"I think you have had enough," Raven's nostrils twitched from the overpowering licorice scent coming from the tiny fae in his hands. She smelled more like she swam in absinthe instead of drank it.

"No," the faerie nodded as she tried to stand up in his palms.

"Yes you have." He placed the faerie into the lap of Banshee. "Don't let her have anything else to drink."

Banshee blinked her glowing eyes as she looked up from her plate. Oberon had changed the gag over her mouth to allow her to taste any food she wanted, but he still kept her mute. She scooped up the tiny member of the fae and placed her on the table between her mug of pomegranate juice and her plate.

Raven was about to sit down when something caught his eye. The dark lavender gargoyle, Lancelot, was cradling the daughter of Selene and Samhain in his arms. Hallie had switched her dress for a black one piece bathing suit with a white cobweb design. An orange and white striped sarong was folded in half and tied around her waist. She had switched her orange costume mask for a pair of orange swimming goggles.

The trickster walked away in disgust after swwing the gargoyle place a piece of pineapple into Hallies mouth while she stroked his chin. There was too much on his mind beging with and he was in no mood to celebrate. The sight of the gargoyle and fae was enough for him to leave. The theme of the party was appealing. He would admit that, but the reason they were celebration he was sour on. Why should they hold a celebration for the gargoyles?

"A party because they had a successful breeding season," he spat. "Why should we give them a party. They should celebrate us. Oberon said they were our honor guard. They should be serving us as well, and worshipping us like they used to." He quickly turned around to make sure no one had followed him and heard his outburst.

Like the other tricksters he did not look forward to be called to the Gathering. He wanted to stay in the pacific north west area of North America. It didn't just have to be St. Florence island, just someplace where they worshipped him and where he can play with the mortals to his amusement.

He first thought the gargoyles of Avalon would provide some fun, but after a few pranks they grew wise to him and the other tricksters. It only took a few days before Avalon no longer amused him. He craved the world and asked Oberon several times for permission. The first two times he was allowed, but after his second time Oberon forbade him from leaving.

"It was a brilliant plan," he grumbled while he continued to walk. "If no one found out the truth or reason it would of worked. Puck would have been deemed a hero and he would have punishment lifted, at least lessened." The platinum headed fae just had to tell the truth. He blew it for the both of them and Raven was grounded to Avalon at least until Oberon lifted the punishment.

Things could have been worse. He could have been locked up inside a tiny cage and placed into an old treasure chamber underneath the volcano. He stared at the dormant volcano, wondering if he should have taken guard duty with the weird sisters.

"Another pointless chore," he grumbled. Mab didn't need any guarding when they left the island over a thousand years ago, he didn't see why she needed any guarding now. The chore did earn him appreciation from Oberon and the more approval he won the better the chance he would receive permission to leave the island.

"Why are you leaving the festivity, cousin?" The trickster turned at the sound of a familair voice to stare into face of a nother trickster approaching him. "I can smell the aroma of the meat from the spit the second I have returned."

"I am not in a festive mood," Raven crossed his arms, not wishing to face the trickster of the soutwest. "You reek of the mortal world."

"I was just correcting a small mistake." No longer in dust evil form Coyote had shifted to a form he was most comfortable in. He had copyied the form of a young Peter Maza from 1960, complete down to the denim pants and black, leather jacket.

"You are given the freedom to visit the mortals and you waste those precious moments to help one who has been dead for a few years."

"You still have to learn," Coyote contined his path, racing beyound the other trickster and continuing through the groups of festive fae and gargoyles towards the make shift throne of the island's King and Queen.

* * *

The only ones who appeared to have been slightly bored than Raven were the rulers of Avalon themselves. Oberon and Titana did remove their regal clothing. Both of them were seated on a makeshift throne made out of the front end of a red, 1960 cadillac. A soft beach blanket was placed across the hood. A couple of bright orange surf boards with Ron Jon logos on each was used to support their backs. Titania was dressed in a summer dress decorated with large flower print. A crown of flowers was placed on her head. Oberon was dressed in a stylish suit of khaki pants, crisp white blazer and silk shirt that was the same shade of blue as him. His white hair was slicked back and a pair of large Rayban sunglasses crowned his head.

Titania smiled politely at the short, fuzzy servant in front of her. "Thank you Moth," she took the plate containing roast quail, yams and sliced mango from him.

"Your welcome, my queen." Mote bowed in front of her. He was covered in a thin tan pelt. His large brownish gray wings were also furry in appearance. His head was topped with thick brown curls and a pair of feathered antennae.

"You may rejoin the celebration," she dismissed him before turning to Oberon. "Are your eyes not working tonight, my husband?"

"My eyes are always working," Oberon said as he tapped his finger against his throne.

"Then you can easily see the party that is before us?"

"I see there is a party before us. I do not wish to loose my dignity and engage in the activities like a drunken fool."

"It would not kill you to smile, or clap, or move to the music," Titania snapped before turning to the activity. She was certain a male fae, one of the tircksters was not kneeling in front of her before. "Coyote?"

"I have returned form my excursion," Coyote rose to his feet

"Did you enjoy your vacation?" Titania smiled at him.

"It was bit of a learning experiance. It's nice to see the party is still going strong."

"It is nice to see some people enjoying it," her eyes narowed into slits as her pupils found her husband. "Unwind and relax with us." The suggestion was not directed at the trickster, but at her husband. Oberon nodded along, not realizing what she had requested. She pulled his shoulder down and whispered into his ear.

"Have some fun," Oberon muttered as he slid his sunglasses over his face and stood up. "Attention!" his voice rumbled throughout the crowds, causing everyone to pause. The flames from the pits dwindled out, not even leaving a bit of smoke. "I am only making one request for the night. I want Pina Colada. Both the drink and the song."

The pixie director spun around on her mushroom and waved her wand while Anansi raised one of his front legs. The spider like god quickly grabbed onto the ingredients needed for the drink. The flames from the grills immeidatly roared back to life.

"I could go for a drink myslef," Coyote approached the bar, his clothes shifted en route. Jeans shrunk to a pair of shorts, jacket and wife beater rearanged to a bright blue shirt decorated with palm trees. His shoes completly melted away. Perhaps he'll have a mai tai or something stronger. He felt he did deserve it.

The End


End file.
